


Written in the Stars

by wordsbymeganmichael



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsbymeganmichael/pseuds/wordsbymeganmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Killian are in the same general education astronomy class, plus lab partners - but through a series of unfortunate events, they become more than lab partners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To say that she’s miserable is the understatement of the year. She’s done all she could the past three and a half years to keep away from morning class, and she was doing so well. But after hours of looking, there was no way to get around it - she needed the class, and the only availability is at eight o’clock in the fucking morning.

  
Walking into the ambient phosphorescence of the lecture hall, she realizes she’s not the only miserable person: most of the students are still in their pajamas, almost everyone grasping their styrofoam, ceramic, metal, paper coffee cups as if they were their life sources - and at this time of the day, they sure as hell might be.

  
And, as if to make matters worse, it wasn’t even a class she wants to take - it’s a university-required science class, absolutely unnecessary to English majors - all her friends agreed with her, but at least they got into the afternoon class. Fuck this.

  
It takes her a moment, but she finds her perfect seat: six rows back, halfway up, at the end of the aisle. When she slides the desk up, however, she finds it to be left-handed (well, shit), so she moves over one.

  
Who the fuck cares about astronomy, anyway?

 **

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. With every step he takes, he repeats this word to himself, late to lecture on the first morning of the semester. Who in their right mind thinks it’s a good idea for college students to wake up for a class at eight o’clock in the fucking morning, anyway?

  
Trying to stay stealthy, he pauses a moment outside of the lecture hall, both hands on his hips, catching the breath he lost by running up the stairs. A moment more, and he pushes through the double-doors, every eye in the room on him. Shit. He wants to keep his cool, but he can feel his heart pounding, and - shit, I might faint. There’s a nice empty spot a few rows up, and even though that means more steps, he takes it anyway, moving down a few seats in the row to avoid the left-handed desks. The only person around him is the girl the row in front of him, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, in light blue jeans and a red jacket. When he looks over her shoulder, he sees that the only notes she has taken so far are two scribbled words across the top of the page: “fuck this.” He can’t help but laugh at this. Maybe the class won’t be that bad.

  
And it only gets better after class, when they have their first lab meeting. Guess who gets put into his lab group: blondie. She introduces herself as Emma, tugging at the end of her long ponytail with one hand and twirling her pencil with the other, then following up with: “I’m an English major, and I don’t fucking care about astronomy, but the university said I needed a science class, so here I am.” What charisma. What grace.

  
Next to her sits a scantily-clad girl with black hair that hangs almost all the way down her back who introduces herself as “Ruby, the undeclared party girl!”, coupled with a peace sign; then the jock next to him, who just says “Will,” and puts his head back down on the table. Then it’s his turn.

  
“Uh, hi. I’m Killian Jones, and I’m an engineering major, specifically nautical and marine engineering.”

  
This causes Will to lift his head off the desk and glare at him. “What the ‘ell does that e’en mean?” His English accent is highly obvious now, though it wasn’t when he just said his name.

  
“Boats. Well, ships.”

  
Without another word, he nods, then sets his head back down.

  
“Oh, ships!” Ruby laughs to herself, showing him a smile at is possibly supposed to be flirty. “I’ve never been on a ship before!”

  
He watches as Emma rolls her eyes, for some reason caring more about her reaction than Ruby’s - though Ruby obviously wants him to focus on her. But before he can say anything more, the professor walks in, looking just as tired as the students.

  
“Hello, and welcome to your first lab. Saying that it’s the first day of class, we’re not going to do an actual lab, but I would like to have a discussion pertaining to what you all know already, so we can get past the trivial math parts and get on to actually learning about space.”

**

“This class is bullshit,” she says to no one in particular, though her roommate answers her.

“I told you to take something else, sweetie,” Belle says in the sweetest voice, rearranging the pile of books on the bookshelf.

  
“There was nothing else to take, Belle,” she reminds her, flopping down onto the worn leather couch. “And I needed a science class to graduate on time. But that doesn’t make it any less bullshit. And then the fucking homework he gave in lab today? Conversions. In fucking meters, Belle. We’re in college, and there are people who don’t know how to convert within metric units.” She propels herself up to a sitting position, facing Belle, who is still standing at the book shelf. “Like the girl who sits next to me. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t even in lecture, and then she showed up wearing fucking nothing, Belle. And she doesn’t know how to convert. Bullshit.”

  
She hears Belle’s quiet tinkle of a laugh, which she can’t help but smile at, even years after the beginning of their blooming friendship, and even when she’s severely pissed off.  
“There’s got to be something nice about the class, at least. Find good in the bad, you know.” Always the optimist.

  
Emma’s first thought is the boy who sat across from her in lab, the one who was late to lecture - Killian, he said his name was. This thought, though, catches her by surprise, and she decides to leave the statement unanswered, silently working on her conversion charts.

  
Bullshit.

After a few minutes of silence only broken by Belle’s humming to herself, the harsh ringing of Emma’s cell phone violently stabs through the silence. After the initial shock of the loud noise, Emma procures the device from her pocket and reads the name at the top of the screen: “Mom.” Rolling her eyes, she slides the “answer” button across the bottom of the touchscreen.

“Hi, mom.” Her voice reflects the ultimately uncaring glaze over her sharp green eyes.

“Hey, sweetie, I just wanted to see how your first day went.”

“Mom, it’s not my first day. I’ve been in college for three years.”

“But it’s the first day of this year.” Emma can almost hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “Besides, do I need a reason to call my favorite daughter?”

“That doesn’t even make sense, mom. I’m your only daughter.”

“Emma, there’s no need to be mean. I just miss you.”

Finally Emma can hear the quiver in her mother’s voice, focusing on something other than herself. With that, everything changes. “Mom, is everything okay?” When she doesn’t answer right away, Emma knows. Somehow, she knows. “Mom?” She looks up at Belle. “I - I have to go.” She hears Belle try to question her, make sure everything is okay, but she still needs her mother to answer her and she can’t remember if she locked her car - oh shit where are her keys? But all she can focus on is her mother’s breathing on the other end of the phone, still not telling her what the problem is, until: “Your father - he’s not - last night - he, he, he left and never - “

“Mom, mom, it’s okay, I’ll be right there.” Well, not ‘right there’, she thinks, but relatively soon.

“Just - just come to the hospital.”

That’s much closer.

When she stops at the gas station right off campus, her thoughts are still racing. Her mother had tried to explain to her what had happened, but her words were so jumbled and mushed together that Emma cannot even understand what she’s trying to say, and she decided to tell her just to hold off. She’s also trying to ignore the fact that her hands are shaking - but why the hell shouldn’t they be? Her father is in the hospital on the first day of possibly her most important semester, and she has this terrible fucking headache that she just noticed. Nothing seems to be going right and for some reason her mind goes back to her bullshit astronomy class and that stupid girl in her stupid crop top and the fact that people were already partying the night before classes even started - why the hell would you do that to yourself? - and on top of that, why are general classes even a thing? Who the hell cares that I take a theatre class that every other fucking student at the university takes?

“Emma?”

At first, she doesn’t even recognize her own name, especially when it's through his thick accent, but when it’s repeated, she pulls herself out of her swirling whirlwind of a mind. “Emma, are you okay?”

Shit. Shit, what’s his name? She remembers the way he weaved his fingers through his shabby brown hair, and the accent brushed over his words, but she can’t for the life of her remember his goddamn name. But then she runs his question through her head again and realize that the answer must be absolutely obvious - and she just shakes her head.

“Where are you driving?”

She takes a very long moment to take a deep breath, clear her throat, attempt to clear her mind - but her voice still cracks when she begins. “To the hospital.”

“Why? What happened?”

As she pulls the nozzle from the pump, she realizes her hands are shaking - and pretty violently, too.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be driving at all, shaking like that. You’re obviously shaken up.” He laughs for a moment, completely to himself, but she realizes that his little joke was actually a little funny - and when she sees his smile, almost literally sparkling in the glow of the late-afternoon-sunset-plus-streetlight, she suddenly remembers his name: Killian. “Let me drive you to the hospital.”

When she feels the bubble in her chest, the one that usually comes with tears and shaking and not being able to hold herself together. But since it was a statement and not a question, she decides not to answer, instead replacing the gas nozzle with her still-shaking hands.

“Let me park your car for you, too. You really - you really don’t look like you should be driving.”

Her bottom lip quivers, and she feels the wave of emotion coming over her body, the one that she usually can’t stop, though she has been getting better. When she sees Killian walking back towards her, she uses the ends of her sweatshirt sleeves to wipe the corners of her eyes, knowing that the little bit of mascara she applied this morning is completely gone, possibly running in lines down her cheeks.

But if he does see it, he just ignores it, sliding his arm around her shaking shoulders and turning her towards the parking lot. “Here, I’m parked right over here,” he says gently, leading her towards what looks like a really nice sports car - which she recognizes right away as a Chevelle, early seventies.

“You - you drive a Chevelle?”

Right away, she can tell that she’s said something that caught him completely off guard - his eyes grow large, and, ever-so-slowly, he lips start to spread into a crescent.

“You know cars?”

She can’t help but smile back at him. “I know this one.”

Without another word from either of them, they both slide onto the sleek leather seats, much lower than Emma is used to given her old Mountaineer. He tries to coax a few more words out of her, jazz music softly sliding through the speakers, but she never answers, feeling her lip start to tremble again. Killian realizes this, and reaches over, covering her hand with his. She tries to focus on the feel of his soft, warm skin, the waves of saxophone and trombone coming through the speakers - anything but her father, sitting unconscious in the hospital bed at the other end of their journey.


	2. Chapter 2

_Killian, what the hell are you doing, man?_ His own words echo in his head as if there were nothing there to stop them - and right now, he feels as if there’s not. But when he feels her muscles relax under his hand, he lets out a physical sigh of relief.

 

For a few minutes, they both let the music continue as the sole source of sound in the car, but then he feels her eyes on him. “Thank you for this,” she says quietly, almost inaudible over Mingus.

 

“You really don’t have to thank me. You needed someone to drive you, and I just happened to be there.”

 

“Are you saying that you’d rather not be here right now?” If he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have heard the smile in her voice - good.

 

“Of course that’s not what I meant,” he replies, his voice still serious, but then smiles. “Of course, there are other things I’d rather be doing than driving you to the hospital, but I’ll take it.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Driving to the hospital is a little bland for our first event together.” Shut up, Killian! “I’d much rather be getting coffee, or going out to dinner.”

 

“It’s not too late, you know. This night can still be saved. I guess it all depends on my father.”

 

Killian takes a short, deep breath before the plunge. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

He hears Emma take the same deep breath. “Honestly, I have no idea. All my mother could tell me is that he’s in the hospital. She didn’t even tell me which room.”

 

The ride to the hospital lasts only about ten minutes - a school with as much of a reputation for parties needs to be relatively close to one. Before either  of them can say anything they really regret, they’re in the parking lot, then through the automatic doors, into the thick aroma of cleanliness and sick people.

 

**

 

Emma has her ID out before she even gets up to the desk. She can tell that the nurse sitting behind it is about as happy to be there as she is, filing her bright green nails and popping bubbles in her gum. “Can I help you with something?” she asks without even looking up.

 

“Uh, I hope so. My name is Emma Swan, and I’m looking for my father, David Nolan.”

 

“Do you know what room he’s in?”

 

“No, ma’am.”

 

“Do you know what wing?”

 

“No, but - “

 

“I definitely cannot let you in if you don’t even know where you’re going.”

 

“Listen, my mother is here with him, and if you could just let me - “

 

“I can’t let you do anything, miss. If you come up with a wing and room number, then I can call and make sure you can go up, but other than that, I can’t do anything to help you. I’m sorry.”

 

She can feel herself welling up from the inside again, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her - but it’s not working, and she can feel the weight in her chest again, the same weight she tried to push down before she had to talk to the receptionist in the first place. But just as it swells closer to its peak, she hears the one voice she would recognize anywhere, coming to save the day: her mother.

 

“Emma?”

 

The receptionist nurse finally looks up from her nails to see who just cried out. “Is this woman with you, Miss Blanchard?”

 

Before Mary Margaret even has the chance to answer, Emma turns to her. “Actually, this is my mother. The one I told you was with my father, David Nolan. Thanks for all your help.”

 

“Emma, that was unnecessary.”

 

“Mom, she was trying to kick me out of the hospital because I didn’t have a room number!”

 

“Zelena, that’s unnecessary. Didn’t you recognize David’s name?” Before even waiting for a response, Mary Margaret takes her daughter’s hand and leads her towards the elevator, and Emma glances over her shoulder to make sure Killian follows them into the metal box.

 

“He’s on the third floor, room 310.”

 

“Mom, what happened?”

 

“Who is this, sweetie?” she asks, ignoring Emma’s question - but then Emma realizes that she hasn’t introduced the two of them.

 

“Oh, this is Killian.”

 

He holds out his hand to shake Mary Margaret’s, his almost twice the size of hers.

 

“How do you know my daughter?”

 

When she hears her mother ask this question, Emma realizes just how odd their situation is. Sure, they’re at least in the same lab group and not just the same lecture class, but still - they just met that morning. Her first experience with him was him being ten minutes late to class, and his first was her swearing about astronomy. But Killian saves them: “We have a couple of classes together.”

 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here right now, though.” Mary Margaret’s words throw Emma off, as she’s never heard her mother be mean to anyone.

 

Emma turns to her companion, slowly feeling more cramped in the elevator - which aren’t her favorite anyway. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

 

He must see the look of uncomfort in her eyes, because he answers Mary Margaret’s question and ignores Emma’s: “She stopped for gas but she couldn’t drive. Lucky I was there, or else I’m not sure what would have happened.”

 

Emma tries her hardest not to roll her eyes - and is saved by the elevator as it opens up on the third floor.  After she steps out, she turns to see that the smile that is usually plastered onto her mother’s face has returned.

 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Killian. Thank you for helping my daughter.”

 

The walk from the elevator to David’s hospital room is short enough that no other words need to be shared, and the three of them simply focus on the terribly sterile smell that engulfs the whole hospital, staring down at the marbled linoleum floor. But after Mary Margaret leads them into the room, Emma confronts her again: “Mom, are you going to tell me what happened now?”

 

She takes a moment to take a deep breath, but after that, she finally addresses the question, staring down at her husband’s bruised and bandaged body.  “He and Arthur went out earlier today - it was Arthur’s birthday, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone. They got lunch and went to a hockey game then went to the bar. The doctor said he has no alcohol in his blood, so I don’t think it was his fault, but there was a head on collision between a pick-up truck and Arthur’s car - why they were driving Arthur’s car is still a mystery.”

 

Emma is afraid to hear the answer to her next question. “And… Arthur?”

 

But there is no answer to hear; Mary Margaret just shakes her head.  Sure, neither of them ever really liked Arthur, but that doesn’t mean that his death comes as a shock.

 

“Have you called Ginny?”

 

“She went back to England a few weeks ago.  I’ve tried to call but haven’t been able to get through, though I sent her an email telling her to contact me when she can.  For some reason I feel like it would be better coming from me and not from some stranger.”

 

Emma just nods, still trying to take in the picture of her father, unconscious in his hospital bed. No one says anything for a good long while, but Emma soon recognizes the look of discomfort in Killian’s face, especially after she makes eye contact with him.

 

“Mom,” she starts, breaking the silence.  “Killian and I are going to grab some coffee, and maybe a snack.  Do you need anything?”

 

Her mother’s eyes don’t leave David’s bed as she slowly shakes her head, the only response Emma needs before practically bolting out of the hospital room.

 

She almost expects the first question Killian has for her: “So, that’s your mother?”  Almost every person she's introduced to her mother - especially male person - has asked her this question. They have a point, she knows that, but that doesn't make the question any less annoying. And within the past few years, it has just continued to get worse, since her mother still seems to not be aging - and Emma seems to be catching up.

 

“Yes, that’s my mother. She was very young when I was born. They both were, her and my father.” She holds the styrofoam cup under the nozzle, pressing the hot chocolate button, then cringing as it starts to hiss and gurgle at her, splashing hot water out of the cup and on to her hand.

 

“Yeah, very young, apparently.” Even though Killian mumbles it under his breath, she still hears him over the gurgling of the machine, though he quickly changes the subject. “Hot chocolate?”

 

“I don’t drink coffee. I’ve never liked the taste of it. Either has my mother.”

 

“Man, I couldn’t live without coffee.” For the first time, she really lets his accent take hold of her focus: the way his mouth moves, the sounds from deep back in his throat, and the never-ending movement of his eyebrows. “I like it best when it’s spiked, but I could drink it all day long.”

 

Pull yourself together, Swan. After a few moments, she realizes that she hasn’t answered, creating awkward silence between them - other than the end gurgling of the machine as it spits out the last of Emma’s hot chocolate.

 

**

 

Pull yourself together, Killian. But even after repeating it through the silence, he still can’t change his focus from the curls at the end of her blonde hair, the way her red leather jacket sticks to her curves, and the way she looks down at her hands when she has nothing left to say. What I wouldn’t give for a swig of rum right now, right in this damn hospital coffee. He tries to keep himself straight, deciding on medium roast coffee since there’s no rum, but creamer in the machine. Even though he tells himself to just watch the coffee trickle into the cup, he catches himself trying to find her in his peripheral vision, longing just to watch her meander around the room, reading the plaques on the wall and sipping carefully on her hot chocolate.

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“Excuse me?” Her words make him physically jump, almost spilling coffee all down the front of him.

 

“Your accent, Killian. You’re not from Maine, I take it?”

 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, no, I’m not from Maine. Pretty far from it, actually.”

 

“Then where are you from?”

 

“England. Well, I was born in England, but then we moved around a lot.  My father was a sailor, you see, and once my mother died when I was very young, my brother and I travelled with him for quite a few years.” He keeps his focus on the coffee machine, watching the liquid trickle from the metal spout. “Fourteen, actually. Until Liam was old enough to take care of me on his own.  But then a few years ago, I finished school and he joined Her Majesty’s Navy, so I decided to move to America.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her turn towards him, leaning against the wall instead of looking at it.  “But, still… why Maine?”

 

“Ships, love.” The words roll off his tongue before he has the chance to stop them, then he silently curses himself for sounding just like his father. “Maine is one of the best shipbuilding areas in the world - did you know that?” The question allows for him to move his gaze from the styrofoam cup to Emma, poised so perfectly against the rough stucco wall as she shakes her head. “So, since this is the best place to build ships, I figured I would study here, too.”

 

“Well, I’m very glad you decided to move to Maine.” Her smile warms him from the inside out, and he pulls out a chair for her at one of the cheap metal tables, then one for himself.

 

“What about your family? What brought them to Maine?”

 

“My parents just found themselves here after they got married, and they just couldn’t leave. My mother loves nature so much, and dad just likes to see her happy, so they decided to settle here. Sure, winters are harsh, but they’re also beautiful.”

 

“I’ve found that a lot of things in Maine are beautiful.” He doesn’t mean for it to be flirty, but when he notices the slight reddening of her cheeks, he realizes that this is how she took it - so he rolls with it, flashing her a smile. After a moment, Emma’s soft features harden and she glances down at her watch.

 

“Shit.” The word doesn’t pass through her lips, taking rest at the threshold, but he knows exactly what she means. “Killian, it’s almost eleven. I have class at 7:30.”

 

“I would think that your father being in the hospital is a university-approved excuse, Emma. It really isn’t something to worry about.”

 

“But I don’t want to keep you out too late, either. Let’s go back and talk to my mother for a little, see dad again, and then we can head back to campus. Okay?”

 

“Emma, it’s up to you. I don’t mind staying here as long as you want to.”

 

Her smile sparks the same fire in his stomach, and she puts her lips to the plastic lid of the cup one more time before heading back to her father’s hospital room.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Emma, we’re here,” he says as he puts the car into park, looking up over the pizza shop to the apartment Emma described as they left the hospital. When she doesn’t respond, he turns the volume on the radio down, tuning Billie Holliday to mere background noise – and noticing that she’s fast asleep. “Emma?” He places his hand on her forearm, shaking slightly, then whispers her name again – and all to no avail. “Well, damn, love, what am I supposed to do now?”

 

He sets his forehead against the hard leather covering of the steering wheel, trying to find some sort of conclusion, then looks around the main street – coming up with absolutely nothing. After a few more moments of useless thought, he comes to the only conclusion that makes sense to him at the time: let’s just go home.

 

His own apartment is only three blocks away, so the drive doesn’t take very long, and Emma is just as perfectly unconscious when he pulls into the parking spot behind the apartment. He sits there for a minute, the engine running, trying to come up with a phrase that doesn’t sound as creepy as “watching her sleep” – and then realizing that that is exactly what he’s doing, and creepy is just creepy. When  he steps out of the car, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and calls Neal, his roommate. “Yeah, mate, let me in the back door.”

 

“Don’t you have your keys? It’s fucking late, dude.”

 

“You’ll understand when you let me in the bloody door.”

 

“Alright, give me a minute.”

 

Without offering a salutation, he terminates the call and slides his phone back into the pocket of his tight jeans.

 

As carefully as he can, he lifts Emma’s sleeping body out of the car and hoists her up into his arms.  By the time he reaches the back door, Neal is at the back door, dressed only in his boxers – what  a surprise.

 

“Dude, what the – “

 

“Aye, don’t even go there, okay? Just make sure my bedroom door is open.”

 

“Your bedroom? You go, Killian!”

 

“Neal, please do me a favor and shut up. She’s fast asleep, don’t wake her up!”

 

Neal throws his hands above his head, leading him down the hallway to Killian’s bedroom door, which is closed.

 

“Do you need me to turn the light on?” Neal seems to have gotten the message, as he whispers this question.

 

Killian shakes his head, entering wordlessly into the darkness; when Neal starts to close the door behind him, however, he whispers, “No, leave it open.”

 

“Alright, man, I’m going back to bed.”

 

Killian, however, is too focused on setting Emma gently enough on the bed as to not wake her up to answer Neal, who slinks away without even waiting for the answer.  After setting her down, he pulls the (thankfully) clean, blue comforter over her, then brushes the wisps of blonde hair out of her face with the pad of his thumb. When he does this, she shifts her body, curling her legs up under themselves, and bringing her hand up to her face and wrapping her fingers around his.

 

“Where am I?” Her words are mumbled, her lips unmoving, her eyes closed – hell, she may not even be conscious.

 

“You’re safe,” Killian whispers, brushing his lips against Emma’s hand before standing up and heading to the couch.

 

**

 

The sound of pots and pans clanging together scares her awake, and she knows right away that she’s not at her apartment: Belle would never do that. She’s not at home, she can’t hear the kitchen from her bedroom. And after these two revelations, she springs up, realizing she’s completely unaware of where she is. Her heart is racing, racing, racing, so fast, feeling like a weight on her chest that prohibits her from breathing fully. She searches the room for any sign to give away where she is. As she looks for any visual clues, she remembers back to the previous night, visiting her father in the hospital, trying not to flirt with Killian –

 

Killian.

 

The last thing she remembers from the night before was riding home in Killian’s beautiful Chevelle, the soft sound of jazz lulling her to sleep – she was so exhausted, and the humming of the engine and sultry smoothness of the music was no help. With this thought comes a soft knock on the door, and Emma pulls the comforter up over her body – her fully clothed body – as a defense mechanism.

 

“Emma, love, are you awake?”

 

Speak of the devil.

 

“Uh, yeah,” she answers,  pulling herself out of the queen sized bed.

 

“Good morning, Emma.” He slides through the doorway holding a glass of orange juice and a plate of eggs and bacon. “It’s almost seven, I hope that’s okay.”

 

She tries to return his (perfect, brilliant) smile, but there are too many questions that she needs answered. “Killian, what happened last night?”

 

The smile disappears. “What do you mean, Emma? You fell asleep on the ride home, and by the time we got to your apartment you were completely catatonic and unresponsive.”

 

“So instead of trying to wake me up, you just decided to bring me to your apartment and leave me alone in your bedroom, so I can wake up completely unaware of where I am?”

 

“Well, when you say it like that, it makes my plan sound a hell of a lot worse than I thought.”

 

“You could have just woke me up, Killian. It would have been okay.”

 

“I tried to wake you up, and you weren’t budging. I thought you were dead at first.  This was the only thing that made sense to do.” After a beat, he adds, “And I made you breakfast. As soon as you’re ready, I can drive you wherever you need to go, your apartment for a change of clothes, the gas station to pick up your car, or just to campus.” Although Emma is still unsure of her situation, she realizes she sure is damn hungry, and grabs the plate from his hands.  “I can probably even meet you after class, if you just want to go straight – “

 

“Killian,” she cuts him off, then stuffs the still-dripping end of bacon in her mouth, made just like she prefers it. “Thank you.”  In less than a minute, the whole plate of eggs is gone, and the bacon not long after. He stands in the doorway, watching her scarf down the breakfast, and she realizes that it doesn’t bother her as much as she expected, just being watched.

 

“Now,” he says after she sets the empty plate on the bed next to her and starts to chug the orange juice.  “Where do you want me to take you?”

 

“Where are we, exactly?”

 

“Tallahassee Street.  206, to be exact.”

 

“That’s only a few blocks from my apartment, right?”

 

“Three or so, why?”

 

“And you wouldn’t mind taking me to my apartment so I can change and brush my teeth, then meeting me after class so we can go get my car?”

 

“It would be my honor.” His charming smile makes her heart skip a beat in a way she never expected it to - though it was nothing compared to the way her heart stopped when Killian’s roommate appeared behind him in the doorway.

 

“Killian, man, why the hell are you making so much noise?”  He seems genuinely worried about this question, but his face changes entirely when he sees Emma on the bed. “Emma?”

 

“Neal.” The word catches in her throat and comes out softer than a whisper.

 

“You two know each other?”

 

That’s an understatement, Emma thinks, biting her tongue to hold back all of the comments she’d wanted to make in the past four years, all of the bad thoughts, the memories, the regrets - and the things she doesn’t regret.

 

“Um, yeah, we know each other,” Neal answers for both of them. “Well, knew each other. It’s been what, three-”

 

“Four years in December.” Her voice is harsh yet emotionless as she attempts to hold back all of her thoughts.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

“I don’t have time for this right now, I’m sorry.”  She finds her jacket folded over the back of his desk chair, with her cell phone plugged in closeby. “Killian, can we go?”  Without waiting for his answer, she pushes past the two of them, ignoring the looks of utterly confusion on both of their faces. When she gets to the end of the hallway, she realizes that she actually has no idea where she’s going and tucks herself into the bathroom.  She can still hear Killian and Neal outside his bedroom, trying to keep their voices hushed, but not doing a very good job:

 

“Where the hell did you pick her up, Killian?”

 

“She’s in one of my classes, and she needed help last night. I just happened to be there to be the one to help her.”

 

“You could have told me who she was before you just bring her over here.”

 

“Well, I never expected for you to know her so well. Did you not recognize her when I carried her in last night?”

 

“Dude, it was midnight, and trust me, she was the last thing I was thinking about!”

 

“Whatever, mate, I need to go. She obviously doesn’t have her car.”

 

“Just give me more warning next time, okay?”

 

“Whatever,” Killian responds, and she realizes that he’s coming towards her as his voice gets louder. “I’ll be home later, and I can’t promise I’ll be alone.”  When he reaches the end of the hallway and sees Emma standing in the bathroom, he jumps back a step, then opens the door across the hallway from the bathroom, which leads out to the porch. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still in here, or else I wouldn’t have - “

 

“Killian,” she says softly, placing her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, it just - he caught me off guard, and I’m sure I did the same to him.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what…” He doesn’t even finish the question, but she knows what he means.

 

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.” He leads her out on to the porch and down to the car. “I’d rather not talk about it ever, but I might be more up to it later.”

 

“Emma, I’m sorry,” he mutters softly as they both pull themselves down into the shining sports car.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about.  You didn’t know, there was no way you would have known.” She reaches over and places her hand on his knee as he turns over the engine. “Besides, it’s about time he and I work our problems out.”  Killian just nods, but then Emma realizes that there are still some unanswered questions about the night before.  “So, what exactly happened last night?”

 

Raising his eyebrows, he asks, “What do you mean exactly?”

 

Shrugging, she twirls a piece of hair around her pointer finger.  “I don’t know exactly. I mean, the last thing I remember is leaving the hospital, and being in the car with you… and then waking up this morning.”

 

“Well, love, you were out cold. I stopped at the gas station before getting on the highway to get a soda - do you remember that?”  When she shakes her head, he continues, “Well, you were asleep by then. I figured I didn’t have to wake you there.  So then we drove to your apartment, and apparently the twenty minute drive did it’s work on you, because you were fast asleep practically the whole way.  When I pulled up outside, I tried to shake you awake but you weren’t responding.  For a moment I thought the worst, but I could see you were breathing, but I still didn’t know what to do - I don’t know if you have a roommate who could let me in, or where your keys were, so I decided just to let you sleep in my bed.  Neal was pissed when I called him to let me in, but he was the worst of my problems.”

 

“So you mean, nothing… Nothing happened?”

 

“Oh, God, no, Emma.  I would never…”

 

She feels the warmth of her reddening face. “I’m sorry, I’m just so used to the type of boys who… Who would… You know…”

 

“Well, Emma, you don’t have to worry about that with me.  Liam raised me better than that.  You’ve been hanging out with the wrong type of people if that’s what they made you think about men.”

 

“Thanks, Killian,” she whispers, squeezing his knee gently, as they pull up in front of her apartment. “I’ll be - I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

When she pushes the front door open softly, knowing that Belle would still be asleep, she is pleasantly surprised to find her roommate actually laying on the couch, clutching her cell phone in one hand, her body facing the door - she must have been waiting up for her.

 

What did I do to deserve this beautiful human as my best friend?  As softly as she can, she closes the door behind her, trying her hardest not to make a sound. As soon as it closes, however, she hears Belle jump awake behind her.  

 

“Emma, where have you been?” Her voice reminds her so much of her mother’s, stern but loving, and she can’t keep the smile off of her face.

 

“Belle, I’m sorry, I should have called, but I never expected - “ She feels the warmth of her face blushing again, and she suddenly wants to spill everything.  “I met Killian last night - the kid from my astronomy class - and he drove me to the hospital because I was so afraid. Then I guess I fell asleep in the car, to the point where he couldn’t wake me, so he tried to drop me off and decided just to take me to his apartment and let me sleep in his bed.”  With the pause, she glances at her watch on her wrist. “I would love to tell you everything, Belle, I really would, but I have class in twenty minutes and Killian is waiting outside.”

 

Even though she hears Belle call after her, she runs down the hallway to her room, trading her jeans for another, almost identical pair of jeans, tossing her dirty t-shirt in the hamper and replacing it with a black button-down, pulling her boots on, then running into the bathroom, where she’s met by Belle.

 

“There’s more to your story?” she asks, while Emma yanks the knots out of her blonde hair, then pulls it up into a high, tight ponytail.

 

“Yeah, you’ll never guess who his roommate is.  Take a guess!” she exclaims, popping her toothbrush into her mouth.  

 

“I don’t know, Emma, I mean, it could be anyone - “

 

“Yeah, it could be anyone, but it’s Neal.”

 

Belle’s eyes widen so much Emma fears they might fall out of her head. “Like, Neal Neal?”

 

After spitting into the sink, Emma nods. “I’ll tell you all about it after class, but I have to go.”  Her backpack is waiting inside her bedroom door.  “I’ll be back after class.”

 

And with that, she was back out the door.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of the rain beating against the metal hood of his car almost lulls him to sleep as he sits outside the English building, hoping that no parking officers decide to patrol the student lots at this time of the morning - and this early in the semester. Testing his luck, he pulls out his cell phone and texts Emma: “Hurry up, I’m falling asleep out here. Haha” and within moments, he gets a reply: “I’m falling asleep in here too.”

He tries paging through the radio stations, but nothing entices him, so he pulls the CD case out of the glove box. Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, Dizzy Gillespie, Frank Sinatra… It’s always a good morning for the Chairman of the Board. Although he does try to stay awake, by the beginning of the third song, he’s lulled into a shallow sleep, which lasts a few more songs, until Emma knocks on the window right next to his head, causing him to almost jump out of his seat.

While he is scared shitless for just a moment, he finds just the sight of Emma’s face calming - and when she sees just how much she scared him, her face reddens to the color of her jacket.

“Sorry,” she half-yells, her voice still mumbled through the glass. “I didn’t realize you were actually asleep.”

After wiping the sleep from his eyes, he reaches across the passenger seat to open her door, then stretches his arms above his head (as much as he can) while she walks around the car and slides inside.

“Seriously, Killian, thank you so much.” Her voice is kind, soft, and motherly, the kind of voice he’s needed his whole life. “For everything.”

“Really, Emma, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

"But it is to me. I’ve told you already, I’m not used to being treated like a human being, and the fact that you met me yesterday and already are this nice to me is an amazing feat in my life.”

“Emma,” he starts, but is cut off by an officer knocking on his window, which he promptly rolls down.

“Excuse me, are you a student here? You don’t have a parking pass and you’ve been here for almost two hours.”

As he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, he replies, “Yes, sir, I am a student. I’m sorry, I was waiting for her to get out of class, but I can assure you I haven’t left the car unattended.”

The parking officer smiles as Killian hands him his school I.D. “With a car like this, I would never leave it unattended.” Killian can’t help but smile back. “What year is it, if you don’t mind my asking? Late 60’s?”

“71, sir.”

“Of course. And how did a college student like yourself come across such a beautiful car? And in this climate?”

“Inheritance, of course.”

“Well, congratulations, uh,” he looks down at Killian’s I.D. again, then hands it back to him. “Killian. Have a nice day, even with the wet weather.”

“Thank you, sir. Same to you.” After he rolls the window up, he looks over at Emma to find her watching him carefully.

“What?” he asks with a smile.

“How did you inherit at 40 year old American made car if you’re from Europe?”

“I inherited the money I used to buy the car. That’s close enough, for all he needs to know.”

Emma nods, apparently finding this answer sufficient.

After a beat, Killian asks, “So, where to?”

“Don’t you have anywhere you need to be today?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Nah, Tuesday’s my day off. Do you have any more classes?”

“Nope, that’s it.”

“So what do you want to do, then?”

“Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

Killian can’t help but keep the smile off of his face.

“Never.”

**

“What do you mean you’ve never seen “Star Wars’!” There are no words to describe her outrage - which is a really difficult point for an English major to reach.

“Emma, you need to remember that I grew up on a boat in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t really have technology, or anything other than books, really.” Even through Emma’s sardonically angry yelling, he is sitting calmly on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s not an excuse!” she yells, a smile growing across her face. “There are no excuses.”

“Except, you know, not liking them enough to finish them all.” Belle surprises the both of them by coming down the hallway in her red silk pajamas, her long brown hair hanging in a braid across her shoulder.

“Belle!” The shocked expression that covers Emma’s face parallels the surprise in her voice. “I thought you had class, or else I would have texted you.”

The smile on her face truly lights up the room. “No, our first lab got cancelled, as we haven’t even had class yet.”

“That’s about the most sensible thing I’ve heard happening on this campus since I started.”

Even though she had known he was there, Killian’s voice still catches Belle off guard. “If you don’t mind me asking, Emma, who is our guest?” She turns to Killian, flashing him another smile. “Not that I mind you being our guest.”

“Of course,” he replies, pushing himself off the couch and holding out his hand. “Killian Jones, m’lady.”

Belle takes his hand in hers, placing her other on top, then giving a slight curtsey. “Belle French.” Turning to Emma, then, she asks, “Is this the Killian from astronomy?”

Trying not to think too much about the obvious growth of redness on Emma’s face, he responds, “The very same,”still holding on to Belle’s hands. “At least, I hope I am, unless there’s another Killian in our astronomy class.”

After a moment of regaining her composure, Emma adds, “Yes, Belle, this is he.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, m’lady, where are you from? Your accent sounds very familiar.”

Belle pulls her hands from around Killian’s, finally, and she wraps the end of her braid around her finger a few times, a habit she’s picked up from Emma. “Oh, I’ve lived so many places in my life, I can’t say it’s from one place in particular.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Emma pop the first Star Wars movie out of its case and into the DVD player. “Anyway, I’m going to take a shower and get ready for class.” Making quick eye contact with Emma as she stands up, Belle adds, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” with a wink - which Emma finds hilarious, as Belle hasn’t ever even kissed a boy.

“Aye,” Killian mumbles as the bathroom door clicks closed. “What does that even mean?”

Emma can’t help but smile at the question, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“With her, it doesn’t mean very much at all, really.”

After a beat, she turns to him, smile beaming, the remote perched in her hand, resting on her knee. “So, are you ready?”

“What, no popcorn?”

Rolling her eyes, she presses play, then pushes herself up off the couch. “I’ll make popcorn, you just watch the movie.”

“Can’t I come with you? Nobody ever watches the beginning anyway.”

She pushes him gently by his shoulder back on to the couch. “I don’t think you understand, Killian. The beginning is the most important part.”

As soon as the opening title rolls up the screen, however, Killian is no longer arguing, his eyes glued to the widescreen television.

**

Emma didn’t try to fall asleep - she didn’t even want to - and he knows that, but as soon as he notices her fluttering eyes, the way her whole body moves when she breathes, the grumble she lets out every few minutes, he suddenly finds himself unable to focus on the movie - which is saying a lot, given that he was really enjoying it. He wants to wake her up, knows that it would be what she wanted, but she’s just so… so…

_Perfect_. Damned if she wasn’t the most perfect, from her radiating blonde, beautiful hair to the way she crosses her ankles, not her legs, so different than the masses. Her nails are chipped (although he knows that he wouldn’t have even _noticed_ if it weren’t for the fact that Milah loved her nails, making sure they were perfect every day - paying more attention to them than to him), her jeans are (perfectly) faded, her watch obviously worn. There are so many things about her that Milah would have hated, things that she used to point out to him in other girls to make herself seem superior - to make sure he knew she was superior.

But he knew, somehow, he knew that Emma was so different in so many ways, in the greatest of ways. He does the only sensible thing he can think of: takes the remote from the arm of the couch, pauses the movie, kisses the top of Emma’s head ever so gently… Then, almost immediately, follows her off into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the upcoming holidays, this might be the last chapter posted until after Christmas... But we'll see! Thanks to all of my returning readers - I can assure you that I enjoy writing this as much as you all enjoy reading it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written on my new AlphaSmart Neo portable word processor, so if the format is screwed up a little, it's because I was so excited to upload this chapter that I didn't want to spend time fixing it. :)

For just a moment after she wakes up, she can feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding in her chest, forgetting where she is, why she's there - and who the hell was next to her on the couch.

Then, just as quickly as she awoke, all of her fears are silenced when she remembers: Star Wars. Living room. Killian.

And then: shit, I fell asleep during Star Wars. As she settles back into the couch, her head is spinning with questions: did I fall asleep first? (Probably.) Did he watch the rest of the movie first? (Honestly, no clue, but I hope so.) What the hell time is it? (With a quick glance at her watch, she learns it's after two o'clock.)

Then, possibly the most important question: what am I supposed to do now? With Killian asleep practically on her shoulder, it's not like she has free reign over her movements; if she tries to get up, he would definitely wake up - and she doesn't think she's quite ready for that yet.

But she doesn't have very long to contemplate her next move, because a few moments later, she feels Killian stir awake next to her.

"Good morning, love." The sleepiness in his voice catches her off-guard, and she feels her breath catch in her chest, leaving her unable to respond for a moment. (Come on, Emma, get yourself together!)

"How was your nap?" she asks after the moment it takes for her to regain her composure.

He stretches his arms above his head, his muscles quivering, and it takes her all she has not to smile at him. "You fell asleep first, you know."

This time, she doesn't stop herself from smiling at him. "I didn't know that, actually, but I was wondering that." With a quick shift of her body, she's now facing him, her right foot tucked under her. "Did you finish the movie, at least?"

"No, no, I figured you'd want to watch it, too. I turned it off a few minutes after you fell asleep, though. It was a little difficult, I must say, since I was really enjoying the movie."

"You didn't have to turn it off, Killian. You could have watched it without me, as I've seen it before."

"I thought about it, but it didn't feel right. I wanted to watch it with you, not while you slept on the couch next to me." After a beat, he asks, "What time is it, anyway? I'm starving."

"It's past two, and lunch sounds fantastic."

"Well, what are you hungry for, then?"

"There's a Chinese place next door."

He crinkles his nose, and Emma can't help but chuckle. "I've actually never had Chinese food."

Emma is perhaps as outraged as she was when she learned he had never seen Star Wars. "What do you mean you never-"

Holding up his hand, he gently responds, "Please don't start yelling again, love," a smile stretching across his face. "I just never really had a place for it in my childhood, and I tend to stick with what I'm comfortable with."

"I guess you have a point there. Where would you get Chinese food growing up on a boat? Do they even have Chinese food places in Europe like they do in America? Because technically nothing they serve at American Chinese places is really Chinese food, but instead Americanized."

To stop her from talking, he takes her wrist gently into his hand, placing his other hand on her shoulder. "Emma, it's okay. If that's what you really want, we can go get Chinese food. If I hate it, I'll grab some pizza on the way back. Okay?"

The smile that stretches across her face is more than an adequate answer.

 

**

 

His chewing is slow but meaningful as he tries to savor the tastes and textures.

"Well, what do you think?" Emma asks before he even swallows the first bite. She started him out small, ordering chicken and broccoli, her own favorite, for both of them, and some pork fried rice. The rice he really liked, but the chicken? Well, he still wasn't sure about that.

"I can definitely say it's not the worst thing I've ever had," he replies with a smile, taking another forkful as he remembers all the weird, stinky fish he and Liam had to eat on the ship, usually boiled or seared over a careful fire - and it was much better than all of that. Emma (rightfully) immediately takes his second mouthful as a good sign, and carries on with her meal, which she paused to see how he felt about his. "So, yes, I do have to say that it's pretty good. I wouldn't want to eat it every night, but it's an occasional thing."

With a smile, she replies, "Oh, I definitely agree. Sure, it's cheap, but that doesn't mean it's not a good-on-occasion thing." She flashes him a cute smile. "But I'm glad you like it, even if it's just a little bit."

They both eat in silence for a few minutes, savoring their cheap Chinese food, until Killian finally asks the question that's been on his mind for quite a few hours now: "Is it at all appropriate for me to ask about Neal yet?"

The question stops her in her tracks, her fork halfway to her mouth, and when she shifts her glance up to him after a few seconds, he sees that her eyes are glazed over, not looking at him but instead seemingly through him. This, however, doesn't answer his question - it actually does the exact opposite, and makes him want to know the answer even more than before.

Finally, she responds: "I've been trying to forget about Neal ever since the day he seemed to have forgotten about me." Then, after she meets his gaze with hers, she continues, "Seeing his this morning was a stab to the chest. There are so many things I just want to forget about the time I spent with him, and I was doing so well, until I saw him again this morning. I didn't even know that he went here - "

"He doesn't, actually."

"Excuse me?" He's unsure of whether her piercing glare is focused towards his interruption or the newfound thought that Neal just happens to be in the same city.

"Yeah, no, he's not a student. I needed an apartment, he had an extra room that he wanted to rent out. He just lives here."

She mumbles something under her breath that he can't quite make out, but it sounds like, "Of all the gin joints" - whatever that means. Then she looks back up at him and continues, "Well, that's just peachy. then. He's not even a student, he just happens to live in the town where I go to college. Fucking awesome."

"Emma, love, what did he do to you?"

She looks down at her hands, spinning the small gold ring on her left pinky. "What didn't he do to me, is the real question. He made my life a living hell. He convinced me to run away with him the summer after my junior year of high school. We went all the way to goddamned New York City, after he taught me how to steal a car. I hated it, every damned minute of it, but I really thought that I loved him. And then..." Her voice trails off, her gaze going back to her hand, to the ring on her pinky. She physically shudders, then takes another big bite of her food before she continues, "And then he got me pregnant, set me up to go to jail for the car he stole, and I never saw him again."

"He... he what?" Killian catches himself before spitting out his grape soda, absolutely appalled by her last statement. "He did what?"

Emma just nods, not lifting her eyes. "That's when I went back home, in the middle of August, went back to my parents. I had the baby, covered it as a 'semester abroad' before I graduated, and then I put him up for adoption. The only thing I have of his is this ring that my mother bought for him when he was born. I don't even know what his name is." When she finished, she finally looked back up  at him, her eyes glazed over again, but in a different way than before; she was seeing him this time, at least, but probably wasn't looking at him, fixated on memories to difficult to forget.

"Emma, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"How could you have known, Killian?" She asks, reaching out and covering his hand with hers. "I haven't told anyone except my parents. And Belle, she knows. I never even told Neal."

"Then why did you tell me?"

First she takes a deep breath, then whispers, "Damned if I know." A little louder, she continues, "Now you know what I meant when I said I wasn't used to being treated like a human being. Neal was the nicest, greatest guy I ever met, until it all crashed and burned after New York."

"You deserve so much more than that."

Instead of staying on the subject, Emma immediately switches it. "Do you want to go bowling?"

 

**

 

"I wouldn't have agreed to go bowling with you if I'd have known that you were this good."

"But it was your idea, love,' Killian retorts, sticking another ketchup-drenched French fry into his mouth.

With a smile, Emma says, "Well, then, remind me never to go bowling with you again, unless it's a partner league."

He can't help but laugh. "Aye, I would never play partners with you, love. You're terrible."

She punches his on the shoulder, perhaps a little harder than she meant to. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

"You know, in less than an hour, we'll have officially spent 24 hours together, not counting the few hours you spent in class."

"Well, I hope it won't be that last time."

"Not on my life, love."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been up sooner, except AO3 user Jen made me realize I haven’t updated the readers on David’s condition, so here’s an added chapter that I never expected to write.

“Do you have plans this weekend, Killian?” she asks, without taking her eyes off of the card in her hands.

“None that I know of. I usually go with the flow.” He leans across the dining room table, his arms crossed in front of him. “Why do you ask?”

Handing the card over to him, it takes all she has to not begin weeping. “Will you go to my father’s funeral with me?”

“Well, that's not a question anyone wants to hear. Or ask, I guess that’s worse. But of course I’ll go with you, Emma. You’re my friend – I hope I’m not crossing any lines saying that, as we haven’t even known each other for a week.”

“Killian, it’s fine. If we weren’t friends, I wouldn’t be asking you to escort me to my father’s funeral.”

“Aye, well, your father seemed like a good man, from what little I saw of him. Was he?”

“He was the most courageous man I’ve ever met. He treated everyone with dignity, people practically worshipped him.”

“A man of honor. He and I would have had a lot in common, then.”

“I feel like he would have liked you, had he ever had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“We may have butted heads at first.”

“He was definitely a head-butter, I’ll tell you something.”

Killian glances up to the clock on the wall, extremely thankful that there’s one in every room.

“I hate to leave you in this state, but I have to get to class. I’ll see you for dinner at 5?”

Once again not taking her eyes from the card in her hands, she just nods.

 

**

 

“Mom, there are so many people here. How did he know all of them?”

“Well, remember, it’s Arthur’s funeral, too, before they send his remains back to his father in England. But you also have to remember that your father was more than sheriff, you know. He was a war hero,” she gestures to the group of soldiers in their dress blues chattering in the corner; “He taught horseback riding, he used to own a farm. Not to mention his father was practically king of a relatively small community back when he was born.” She points over to the opposite corner, where a single older man sits alone on a chair, paging through a book of pictures. “You remember George, don’t you?”

As if he could hear them on the other end of the room, George looks up from the book and smiles warmly, though he doesn’t begin to approach them, keeping to himself.

“Not to mention everyone from the years he spent living with his father.” At first, Emma doesn’t recognize the tall, black man approaching them – it’s been quite a few years since she last saw him – but when her mother embraces him, she remembers: Lancelot. Or, as he preferred, Lance. “Mary Margaret, you look great. I’m fairly certain you haven’t aged since I last saw you.”

“Oh, Lance, you’re too kind. Thank you for coming all this way, though,” she adds while he embraces Emma.

“And miss my best friend’s funeral. Two good friends, really. Arthur and I were close once, oh, once upon a time, too.”

“Do you know all of these people, love?” Killian mumbles into her ear, back from relieving himself for the second time – she’s absolutely sure there’s not water in his flask, like he said.

“No, I definitely do not. Mom, do you know all of them?”

She shakes her head, a smile painted across her beautiful face. “No, but I’m sure David did. He was great with names, with people.” She blots her eyes with the handkerchief she holds in her hand. “With everything.” The church bells toll eleven – time for the service to start. Mary Margaret, Emma, Killian, and Lance wait to be the last to enter the sanctuary, shaking hands and thanking all the guests as they enter, and then following the last few people into the silent church.

 

**

 

Killian feels her shift in her seat, nervous and jittery. But when the priest sits down, all of her fear seems to melt off of her as she stands up, flattening the front of her simple black dress, approaching the podium.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Emma Swan, and David was my father.” Her eyes scan the room, for a moment, then lock with his, just like he told her she could do if she was too nervous. “I want to think you all for coming to this service, whether you’re here for my father or for Arthur, or for both. Seeing all of you here make me so proud to call myself his daughter, knowing that he touched all of your lives somehow. I always knew that my father was special, but I never quite nknew the extent of that until today. Now, that being said, I’m sure most of you out there know that, as serious as my father could be at some times, he also liked to relax when he had the chance, which wasn’t very often, really.” This makes a good portion of the room chuckle, and Emma seems to find a little more comfort in this, cracking a smile and breaking eye contact, scanning the room again. When she continues, she’s no longer looking at him. “Because of that, he would be immensely upset if you didn’t join Mary Margaret and I at our home for a celebration of David and Arthur, for their lives and their successes and that fact that everyone likes to have a little fun now and then.” He can tell that she’s made it back to her comfort zone by the smile covering her face, by the sparkle in her eye. “If any of you don’t know where my house is, we’ll be making the funeral procession to there, as neither David nor Arthur are getting buried. I hope to see you all later, and I can’t wait to hear the wonderful stories about my father.”

While she returns back to her seat, the room is filled with a smattering of applause – in a room filled with that many people, a smattering is enough to fill the room.

“You did wonderful, love,” Killian whispers to her as she settles back into her seat. “Just like I told you that you would.”

It’s Mary Margaret’s turn to speak up, but she doesn’t take the podium, instead standing up and facing the crowd from where she is. “Well, that’s the end of the service, but as my wonderful daughter said, please join us at our house, it’s not far from here. And there will be food and an open bar, just as David would have wanted.” This time, the laughter comes with the sound of people shuffling in their seats, getting up to move around and to leave.

Killian prepares himself to do just the same, but is stopped in his tracks when he sees an older man approaching Mary Margaret, a face that he never thought he would see again. He’s almost sure that he doesn’t see him in return, because he doubts he would still be talking to Mary Margaret if he had: “Excuse me, I know you don’t know who I am – at least, I doubt you do – but I just wanted to let you know that I owe my life to your husband, in more ways than one.” Killian wants to make sure that he’s right before he makes any moves, and Emma must see the pained expression on his face, because she gently places her hand on his forearm and mumbles his name.

“Well, thank you for letting me know. I know that there are many men out there who owe their lives to him – believe me, he was very proud of himself and the people around him. What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brennan Jones, m’lady.”

As soon as Killian hears it, he jumps. “Father?” Brennan turns around, the look on his face full of awe. “Liam told me that you – you’re not supposed to – “

Instead of simply being in awe as Killian is, he embraces him in a hug. “Aye, yes, that was the story, because I was too ashamed.” When he releases Killian from the hug, he keeps his hands locked on to his arms, probably keeping him from running – which he definitely wants to do.

“Ashamed? What could be so bad that death is the better solution?”

“Abandonment. Yes, it was my idea to send you with Liam when he grew old enough to take care of you, but then I stopped sending money, stopped writing letters.” There are tears in his father’s eyes, but Killian is almost entirely sure that they’re not tears of joy. “You were just a boy, and Liam wasn’t much more than that. And there hasn’t been a day goes by that I haven’t missed you two, wanted to reach out. How is your brother?”

This is the question that puts Killian over the edge, because he really doesn’t know. “He’s dead. Three years ago, because of the Navy.” He pulls himself away from his father, out of his embrace. “Maybe if you hadn’t left us, he wouldn’t have had to give his life, to leave me.”

“Killian, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late.”

He doesn’t want to leave Emma there, but he knows he can’t stay, and he sees that she’s distracted by another conversation; he pushes through the crowd, his chest heaving with anger, and out of the church. There’s nowhere else for him to go, so he goes to the one place where he knows his father will never look – the Chevelle.

 

**

 

“Hey, stranger, you have room for a hitch hiker?” Emma asks with a smile as she lets herself into his car, which he unlocked when he saw her approaching.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a hitch hiker that looks like that,” he replies, trying to find a smile somewhere inside of him, but it doesn’t work. When she’s gotten herself situated inside the car, he turns to her and says softly, “I’m sorry I left you in there like that, love. But I just couldn’t – I thought for so long that he was dead, and seeing him in there was like a sword to the gut.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Eight, nine years. Liam told me he was dead two years after we left him, so I rightfully never believed I would see him again. He must have known your father during the war, because Lance said he grew up in England?” She nods. “But I just – seeing him today was the last thing I ever expected. And, as I said, I’m sorry I ditched you, I just needed to get out of there.” When he realizes people are getting into their cars, he changes his train of thought, as she can tell with the obvious change of emotion that ripples across his features, upset to alert. “Aren’t we supposed to lead the procession?”

Emma smiles at him, worrying about trivial things when there’s so much more he could be focused on. “Well, we were supposed to be, but since Lance is here, she’s riding with him in the front and we’re taking up the back.”

“Okay, good.”

After a beat, she asks, “Killian, are you going to be okay? I mean, your father bring alive and all is quite a shock.”

“Look at me, focused so much on my living father when you’re the one that just suffered a loss. Are you going to be okay, is the more important question? You didn’t cry at all during the service.”

“I guess we all have our own ways of mourning.”

“Can we mourn together, then? You for your deceased father and me for mine that’s returned from the grave?”

She reaches across the console and covers his hand with hers. “What are friends for?”


	7. Chapter 7

“What the ‘ell is with you two, anyway?” Will asks sharply, shoving his folder and notebook into his backpack while the rest of the lab room files out.

“What is that supposed to mean, mate?”

“You mean you can sense it too, Will?” Ruby asks with a smile.

“Seriously, guys, what does that even mean?”

“You two totally dig each other!” Ruby’s smile widens as she runs her bright red fingernails through her long brown hair.

“Yeah, I mean, how long has that been going on? Neither of you seemed that into each other three weeks ago when classes started.”

Killian tosses his arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I guess a lot can happen in three weeks, Scarlett.”

“So you’re not denying it then?” Will’s question brings them to share a glance with each other, shrugging almost simultaneously.

“They’re not denying it, Will!” Ruby hold out her hand towards him. “You owe me ten dollars!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Emma fakes outrage, completely aware that the two of them had placed bets as to how long it would take for her and Killian to admit their attraction – Ruby bet less than a month, Will bet more.

Almost an answer to the question, Ruby takes the ten dollars Will hands her and says, “I told you it wouldn’t take a month, Will.”

“They bet on us, didn’t they?” Killian asks no one in particular, then turns to Emma and asks her, “Did you know about this?”

She nods. “Yes, now can we go get lunch? I’m starving.” Turning to Will and Ruby, she asks, “Do you guys want to do lunch with us?”

Through mumbles of, “Oh, I have another class,” and “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she understands that lunch will be just the two of them – not that she has a problem with that, except for the huge elephant now sitting in the middle of their friendship.

A white elephant that he immediately brings up when Will and Ruby leave the room: “So, I guess we have to talk about this now, our mutual affections, eh?”

“Can we at least get lunch first, Killian?”

She doesn’t wait for a response, instead ducking out from under his arm and leading his out of the lab room.

 

**

 

“So where does this put us, Swan?” Killian asks, taking another bite of his mediocre on-campus pizza.

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” He’s hurt, taken aback by her tone of voice, but also completely understands where she’s coming from – he has mentioned it quite a few times in the past ten minutes, and she keeps throwing him off. “The whole purpose of having an elephant is to ignore the fact that it’s there.”

He’s obviously perplexed by this, raising his eyebrows at her. “An elephant? I’m afraid I don’t understand that.”

Even through her anger, Emma can’t help but smile at him. “I guess that’s a rather Americanized phrase. It means that there’s something hanging between two people, something that they refuse to talk about.”

“Well, why should re ignore it, love? It’s no secret that I adore you, or at least I’ve been trying to make it known. And I was hoping that you felt the same way.”

“Killian, I – “

He gives her a moment to continue, but when she doesn’t he says, “At least, I thought you felt the same, but maybe I was hoping for too much.”

“Killian, I’m just afraid,” she whispers gently, reaching across the table to cover his hand with hers. “I’m afraid that it’s going to end the same way all of my other relationships have, with lies and treachery and hatred, and most of all, with broken hearts. I can’t have my heart broken, again, Killian. I don’t even know if it’s still capable of the love it once had.”

“If it can be broken, it means it still works.”

“Killian, you’re so amazing, sometime I don’t even think you’re real. And I do, I want to give it, give us, a try, but I don’t know if I could get through another broken heart.” Her eyes widen, as if she just realized something – which is exactly what she did. “And what about Neal?”

“What about Neal?” He tries his best to sound worried, but anger is much closer to his actual feeling.

“What do I tell him?”

“Why do you need to tell him anything? You don’t owe him an apology or an explanation – anything.”

“But I do, Killian. He deserves to know what happened, deserves to know about his – “Her voice falters and she fails to release her last word.

Now it’s Killian’s turn for a realization. “You still love him, don’t you?” When she doesn’t answer after a moment, he has all the answer he needs. “You do. But how, after all that he’s done, all that he put you through?”

“Killian, it’s not like that. At least, I don’t think it is. I never planned to see him again, nonetheless find myself highly attracted to his roommate.”

Killian’s disposition changes entirely; he leans back in the chair, balancing it on its back legs, his face beaming with a huge smile. “Aye, then, you do fancy me.”

“Killian, no one says that anymore, at least not here.” She, once again, can’t help but smile at him, and the obvious fact that he grew up somewhere so different than she did.

“Will you – “ His face melts into seriousness again. “Will you at least think about it, love?”

“Of course I will, Killian,” she says with a smile, stuffing the last bite of her pizza crust into her mouth.

 

**

 

“Is he here?” she asks before he even has the door all the way open.

“I don’t know, love, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

She takes a deep breath, then forces herself through the threshold, into everything she’s spent the last few years trying to forget.

At the end of the hallway, Killian gestures towards his bedroom. “I’ll be in here, so you two can talk.”

When he shuts the door behind him, Emma walks out into the kitchen, where she finds Neal, in a pair of tight jeans and a red t-shirt.

“Neal,” she says softly, but apparently loud enough for him to hear, because he turns around from the stove, his eyes immediately widening at the sight of her. “We need to talk,” she says at the exact same time that he says, “I missed you.”

“See, Neal, this is why we need to talk.”

“Are you trying to say that you didn’t miss me?”

“After all you’ve done to me? No, Neal, I can’t say that I did.”

“’All that I did’? Emma, I didn’t want to leave you in jail, that was never my plan. And when I found a way to make your bail, when I went back to get you, they said you had already left for health reasons? What the hell does that even mean? I thought your parents bailed you out.”

“They did bail me out, Neal. But they let me off easy because of my so-called ‘health reasons’, because of the baby.”

“What baby?” His eyes suddenly go wide. “You mean, you had – we have – “

“Oh, don’t get so excited, Neal. He’s no more your son than he is mine, at least not anymore.’

“But – where is he, then?”

“Damned if I know, Neal. Maybe if you’d have been there for him – for me, we could have kept him. But I was all alone, and it was almost time for me to go to college. My mother wanted to raise him, the beautiful soul she is, but I don’t think I could have lived with that. So I gave him away, Neal. Abandoned him the same way you abandoned me, except I made sure he was going to be taken care of, which is more than you ever did for me.”

His eyes go soft, and he leans against the counter as if he would have fallen if he didn’t. “You mean you just – you just gave him away? Just like that?”

“’Just like that’ is about as far from the truth as can be. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Neal, and if I could get him back, I would.”

“Why now, Emma?”

His question takes her aback, mainly because she doesn’t understand exactly what he means, until he clarifies, probably because of her look of confusion. “Why did you decide to tell me now?”

“Because I need to move on, Neal. I need to get past you, to get past all the hurt and damage and the pain that you did to me.”

“But… why?”

She presses her hand against the wall behind her – the wall that separates the kitchen from Killian’s bedroom.

“Are you serious?”

Her chuckle changes the tone of the room, but the serious look on her face proves that nothing has, in fact, been changed. “Who are you to judge me, Neal?”

“Emma, I love you.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” The rolling anger in his voice is answer enough.

“I’m not going through that again, Neal. Especially not with you.”

“And you don’t think that he’ll do the same?” He points towards Killian’s room, assuring that she understands what he means.

“Please leave him out of this.”

“Are you trying to say that he has nothing to do with this conversation?”

“Well, if it weren’t for him, I definitely wouldn’t be having this conversation with you. Before I saw you that morning three weeks ago, I was living as if you never existed, or at least as if I was never going to see you again, and damned if I wasn’t okay with that. But Killian’s…”

“What? What is he, Emma? He’s different? How do you even know?”

“Maybe I don’t know, Neal. And maybe that scares me more than anything. But I can’t let your ghost of a memory hold me back anymore, I have to move on.”

“Can you still move on when you know that I still love you?”

“Well, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It doesn’t change the fact that you left me in prison – not just me, Neal, but me and your son. I had to go through all of that on my own, and no matter how much you still love me, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

“If you can honestly say that you don’t love me anymore, look me in the eyes and say you no longer care for me, you can have your happy life with Jones. I promise I’ll leave you alone. But you need to tell me that what I’ve been remembering all these years is wrong, and that you don’t care for me anymore.”

She looks into his eyes, completely ready to move on with her life, especially through the anger burning through her body. But when she thinks about what made her angry, everything he’s done to prove himself unworthy – and when she remembers that, she finds her strength, looking up into his brown eyes, seething with the hatred she’s kept bottled up inside.

“I don’t love you, Neal. At least, not anymore.”

He takes a few steps back, putting more room between them. “Fine then, Emma. Go be happy.” Without looking back, he retreats into his bedroom.

And she retreats to Killian’s.

“How’d it go, love?” he asks, almost sarcastically, when she closes the door behind her.

Almost as an answer, Emma lets out the tears she tried so hard to hold back, throwing herself face-first onto the bed.

“That well, eh?” He mutters under his breath, sitting down next to her and rubbing her back.

After a few minutes, when she calms down, she turns onto her back, looking up at him with red rings around her bright green eyes.

With a slight smile on her face, trying to remember the way he worded it earlier: “So, then, where does this put us?”

There’s no need for a verbal answer – Killian leans down and presses his lips against hers, only for a moment, then holds himself next to her with one arm. “Aye, I can live with this.”

Before either of them has a chance to say any more, Emma wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls his lips back to hers. “Aye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope most of the facts in this chapter line up somewhat with the show, as that was sort of what I was trying for. Thanks to all my returning readers, seeing your comments makes my heart happy. :)


	8. Chapter 8

“Belle, guess what?!” She’s yelling across the apartment before she’s even crossed the threshold, and Belle looks up from the book she’s reading, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“I did it!”

Her look dissolves from excitement to confusion. “Did what? What did you do?”

“Well, actually, I did a lot.” She falls back onto the couch, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. “I confronted Neal, told him everything, and let him go.”

“Emma, that’s great, I’m so proud – “

“And then I kissed Killian. Well, I guess he kissed me first, but then I kissed him.”

The smile that’s already plastered on Belle’s face widens. “It’s about time!”

“At least you didn’t place bets on us like our lab partners did.”

“They did what?”

“Yeah! I know, right! And Ruby, the girl I always complain about, she won, because Will thought it was going to be more than a month, but he was wrong.”

Her features go soft. “Are you okay, though? I mean, talking to Neal must have been immensely difficult, given all he’s put you through.”

“I mean, it was a little heart-wrenching at first, even just seeing him there, but once I got everything off my chest, I felt so much better.”

“Did you tell him about…?”

She knows exactly what Belle means – what else would she mean? “Yeah, I told him everything.”

“How did he take it?”

“He told me that he still loved me, that he tried to make bail but by the time he did, my parents had already gotten me.”

“Wow. So then, what did you do?”

“I yelled at him a little bit, stormed off. I may have cried a little once I got into Killian’s room. And then since I told him I had to work things out with Neal before I could do anything with him, I kissed him.”

“I haven’t said anything about it, but he looks really familiar. I think I knew him growing up, when we were traveling. Where is he from?”

“England, but I don’t know where. He and his brother grew up on a boat with their sailor father, who he reunited with at my father’s funeral even though he thought he was dead.”

“A brother? What’s his brother’s name?”

“Uhm, Liam. Liam Jones. I think he was four or five years older than Killian.”

Belle’s eyes grow wide. “Was?”

“Yeah, he joined the Navy and died three years ago. That’s why Killian came to America.”

“That’s who I thought he was. But I didn’t know Liam was dead. I knew him, really well actually. We went to school together, and dated for a short period of time.”

“Well, you can re-introduce yourself to him tonight, he’s coming over after class.”

“I take it I’ll be seeing a lot of him now, won’t I?”

Emma feels her face turn red. “Well, yeah, probably. I mean, sure, Neal and I talked about things, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him every day. And I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that you knew his brother, because he seemed to have adored him.”

“If it’s the Liam I knew, I don’t blame him one bit.” They’re both silent for a beat, until a smile grows over Belle’s face – but when she still doesn’t say anything, her eyebrow raised in a very familiar expression, Emma’s curiosity gets the best of her.

“What?! Don’t look at me like that!”

“So, you two are, like, a thing now?”

“Well, yeah, I can imagine that’s what happened when you make out with someone, Belle.”

“Not necessarily.”

Now it’s Emma’s turn to be outraged. “Belle!” Then her features go soft, even through her reddening face. “It’s not like that, it’s, like, an actual, real relationship.”

Belle’s eyebrow raises again in a mischievous smile. “Well, don’t do anything too… weird while I’m here. Or at least try to keep it down.”

With that, she picks her book back up and continues reading, as if Emma never entered the room.

Throughout the entirety of her shower, there’s one fact that Emma can’t get over: everyone in her life seems to be connected to Killian: her father, Belle… even Neal. But what does that mean?

 

**

 

“Did you ever tell me when your birthday is, love?” Killian asks, pouring some rum into his cup of coffee.

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever asked. But it’s October 23.”

“Aye, that’s only a few weeks away. How old will you be?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to ask a lady her age?”

He skips right over the coffee and takes a swig from his flask. “Can’t say I would remember if she did, as I was only a lad when last I saw her.”

Emma’s face flashes dark. “Killian, I didn’t mean – “

“Swan, there’s been no harm. I was just wondering.” (‘Swan,’ she repeats to herself, his thickly-accented voice inside her head, the one that gets thicker and thicker the more he drinks. ‘Swan.’ The word bounces around her head, and every time she hears it slide through his teeth – which he only calls her once he’s had a few drinks – she loves it a little bit more. ‘Swan.’)

“I’ll be twenty-four, if you really need to know.”

“Such a young one we have here.” He leans all the way across the table, holding her face in his hand – and, suddenly, his features soften, his eyes losing their glaze. “You’re so beautiful, love.”

“And you’re so weird when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t you have a paper or something to write?”

She chuckles. “Just one? But yes, and you have schematics to work on, but you don’t see me getting all weird to you.”

When the flask leaves his lips, they’re already pulled back into a brilliant smile. “You just haven’t had enough to drink.”

Emma just smiles and goes back to her paper – but only for a few minutes, until Killian speaks up again. “What are we doing for your birthday, then?”

“What’s with you and birthdays, Killian?”

He goes to lift the flask up to his mouth again, but stops halfway and sets it on the table, focused on something rather far away. “They’re the only thing Liam and I celebrated on the ship. We’d sail through Christmas and New Years and every other holiday, but because we were the only kids on the ship, dad always made sure our birthdays were special.”

“I know yours is February 4, but when was Liam’s?”

“The fifth of March, which is also the day he died. His twenty-eighth birthday.”

“That’s crazy.”

After a few seconds of staying in his own world, Killian locks eyes with her. “Liam was such a good man. A good brother, a good soldier. When he pledges allegiances to something, they’re damn good allegiances. Not a day goes by when I don’t miss him.” His hand slowly pulls a chain out from under his shirt, a chain which holds a silver ring that Emma has always wanted to ask about, but has never found the right time. “This is all I have left of him now, his ring and his honor. He gave it to me before he died in my arms.”

When Killian’s eyes glaze over again, Emma tries to focus on her paper, but can’t get one picture out of her head: the hatred in Killian’s eyes when he saw his father that day at David’s funeral, a hatred that could only be explained by the story he’s just shared with her. Abandonment, no physical place to call home, practically growing up without parents. Every new thing she learns about Liam, she wishes more and more that she would have had the chance to meet him – but she sees all of his admirable qualities mirrored in his wonderful (and ‘devilishly handsome,’ as he liked to boast) brother.

And then she realizes something: “Wait, aren’t you a year behind me? How old are you, Killian?”

“Aye, I’m a junior, but I’m 25. You’re not the only one that took a few years off.”

She pushes her laptop out of the way, knowing that she wouldn’t be writing much more of her paper tonight. “I feel like there’s still a lot of your story that I don’t know, Killian. I mean, you’ve told me bits and pieces, but I want to know. I want to know about Liam, about the years you spent in Europe, and why the hell you actually came to Maine.”

Just as serious as she made herself, he does the same, setting his flask aside and leaning as far towards her as he can, his eyes piercing into hers.

“Where should we start?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a lot of this came from my imagination, but I tried to tie in as many canon facts as possible. I wasn’t planning on doing a backstory quite like this, but once I started it, I loved it… so here you all go, my favorite chapter so far: Killian’s past.

March 5, 2000, 10 years old  
“To Liam!” The whole crew cheers for the boy as he blows out the candles on the cake, a commodity made special by the chef just for this occasion. After all the candles are out, they cheer again, beer and water sloshing on the floor when they clink their glasses a little too hard.  
“How old are you again, lad?” one of the shipmates yells across the table, his eyes wide with drunkenness.  
“Sixteen, Sam,” Liam responds loud enough to be heard over the rowdy hall.  
Sam slaps Killian on the back, probably a little harder than he would have if it weren’t for all the alcohol in his system. “A good, grown man of a brother you got yourself there, Killian.”  
“Yes, sir,” he answers, beaming, immensely proud of his older brother. Brennan’s smile mirrors his younger son’s, showing the same proudness for the man Liam has grown into.  
Brennan plunges up, standing first on the floor, then on the bench, clinking his metal knife against the thick glass of his mug. “Can I have everyone’s attention?” He has to yell a few more times before the whole crew is watching them, but it doesn’t take very long until he has all the eyes in the room on him. “I have an announcement to make.” Using Liam as a crutch, he lowers himself back to the floor, simultaneously pulling an envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket, which he then hands to Liam. “Son, this is for you, if you’ll have it.” Inside sits a lone check for 1000 pounds, which Liam knows well enough to leave in the envelope.  
“Father, what is this for?”  
Brennan rests his hand on Liam’s back, looking first at him, then at Killian on the other side of the table. “It’s for the two of you, so you can move ashore and finish school. That should cover your first month’s rent, plus any commodities you need.”  
“What about every month after this one?”  
“That’s another part of the present, son. You’ll get as much as you need every month, I’ve set up an account at that bank so you can go in and get what you need. I’ll add money to it every time we come ashore so that it stays full.”  
Killian’s green eyes flash with excitement. “You mean, we’re moving ashore? All of us?”  
“No, lad, just you and your brother.”  
The excitement dulls down, but does not disappear. “Oh, okay.”  
Brennan turns back to Liam. “I’ll keep adding money until the two of you are old enough to pay for everything yourselves.”  
Liam jumps up and engulfs his father in a hug, already taller than him at just sixteen. “Thank you, father!” After a moment, he turns to Killian. “I guess this means we should go pack our things, Killian.”  
The two walk off together, Liam’s arm over his younger brother’s shoulders, leaving the rest of the crew to drink at the bar.

**

“What do you think of this one?” Liam asks, pointing to another picture in the magazine spread out in front of the two of them later that night.  
He just shrugs. “It’s not the worst one we’ve seen.”  
“What don’t you like about it?”  
“It’s just so plain.”  
“That’s because it’s empty, kid.”  
Killian crosses his arms on the table and rests his chin on them.  
“What’s wrong, Killian? You were excited about this when we started.”  
“And that was an hour ago, Liam. It’s not nearly as exciting anymore.”  
“I think we should take this one,” Liam comments, pointing to the last picture. “It’s a good price and it’s in a good district, not far from the school.”  
“As long as we can be done with this, I’m fine with whatever.”  
“But I want you to be happy, too, Killian.”  
“Well, if we hate it, can’t we just find another one?”  
Liam just smiles at him. “I guess you’re right.”

December 6, 2002, 12 years old  
Killian recognizes the look on his brother’s face as soon as he walks through the door of their small, one-room apartment.  
“Liam, what’s wrong?” he asks, setting his book on maritime history aside on the coffee table.  
“How do you know something is wrong?” Liam knows full well that his brother is good with knowing expressions, but he was trying his hardest to hide it from Killian, at least this one time. After he hangs his jacket on the knob next to the door, he pulls the letter out of the inside pocket, handing it to his curious little brother.  
“What is this?” he asks, carefully pulling the handwritten letter out of the envelope, on which the wax seal is already broken.  
“It’s bad news, kid. At least, I think it’s bad. It’s news, at least.”  
Killian recognizes the handwriting as soon as he unfolds the letter, the only handwriting he saw in his childhood, for the most part: the captain of his father’s ship.  
The letter is short and to the point:

“Jones boys,  
I regret to inform you that your father has passed away the previous week. He suddenly got very sick and we were not able to get him help, as he passed before we could make port. He confided in me that he was sending you two money to live on, and I will be carrying on with task until you are both old enough to be completely responsible for yourselves.  
My condolences,  
Captain James Hook”

When Killian looks up from the letter, Liam can see the tears in his eyes. “So father’s – he’s dead?”  
Liam takes a seat next to him on the couch. “Aye, it sounds that way.”  
“But what did he die from?”  
“I know just as much as you do, Killian, and that’s what is written on that letter there in your hands.”  
His expression melts from grieving to content. “At least the captain is still sending us money, so we can keep the apartment.”  
The smile on Liam’s face perfectly describes just how proud he is of his younger brother, showing strength in a time when he shouldn’t have to.  
“I just wish we could have seen him again, you know? I mean, we haven’t seen him for two years, or even heard from him really, except the few letters he sent.”  
Liam tousles Killian’s shaggy black hair, messing it up even more than it was before. “Aye, kid, I know what you mean.”

June 18, 2008, 18 years old  
“Killian Jones.”  
He hears a smattering of applause, his few friends and Liam and Belle out in the auditorium.  
As the principal hands him his diploma, he asks the same question he asked every other student: “Killian, what are you planning on doing with your life?”  
He meets Liam’s eyes, about to tell the only secret he’s ever kept from his brother: “I’m going to join the Navy, and sail under my brother.”  
There. He said it. And there’s no taking it back.

**

“Killian, I know it’s what you want, but I can’t let you sign your life away the way I did.”  
“But it’s not your choice anymore, Liam. I’m not a little boy anymore, and that means you don’t get to de3decide what I do with my life.”  
“But I can always hope to sway your judgement, though you’ve always been very stubborn.”  
Killian leans across the small restaurant table, his arms still crossed across his chest. “Aye, yet you always seem to be trying to sway me. Besides, it’s too late to stop me, I already submitted my paperwork.”  
“Why didn’t you ask me first, kid?”  
“Because I knew that you wouldn’t want me to join. I knew that you would argue, so I did it anyways. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”  
“I can try my hardest to get you into a stationary position, where you’re always here and not out.”  
“But I want to sail, Liam. I want to see the world, I want to do good, and I want to do it all with you.”  
“Well, when you word it like that, why would any brother want to stop that? But you have to do me one favor.”  
A smile flashes across Killian’s face when he realizes just what Liam means.  
“Anything, brother.”  
“If I die in battle, you have to accept the resignation they give you. We can’t both find the same fate, tied to Her Majesty’s Navy forever. And if you ever find that you wish for something else, let me know. No one should be tied down like that, especially when they want something more.”  
As Killian thinks over what Liam just asked of him, Liam holds out his hand, waiting to make it totally official. After a moment, Killian nods, Wrapping his hand around his brother’s forearm, and Lima does the same.  
“Thank you, Liam.”  
Liam just smiles.

  
February 28, 2013, 23 years old  
Liam jumps up onto the quarter deck, orders held high above his head.  
“Well, fellas!” He yells, a smile plastered on his chiseled face. “We have our orders!”  
The crew cheers loudly in response, excited to hear their next adventure.  
“And I’m very excited to announce that a lot of your dreams are coming true – we’re going to America on a short-term project, with orders straight from Her Majesty herself.”  
Liam looks out over his crew, the selection of bearded old men and strapping young lads that he’s built for himself – though how he ever got himself this far in just a few short year he’ll never be quite sure. As he looks over the elated faces across the deck, there’s one that stands out among the rest, that face that will always stand out to him – and he makes his way through the cheering crowd and down to his younger brother, down to Killian..  
Clapping him on the shoulder, he says, “You don’t look nearly as happy as I expected you to. I thought you always wanted to go to America.”  
A slight smile spreads across his face, but still not as big of one as Liam expects. “I have, Liam, I have, but… it’s just so different. We’ve always been here, or very close to here, even when we traveled with dad, but that was still always France or Germany or Greece. But not America. We’ve never had the time or the resources or anything to go to America, it just seems to surreal.”  
“Killian, you’re talking like it’s the nineteenth century. It’s 2013 kid, and anything is possible – that’s why we’re going to America.”  
Within the next 24 hours, they were sailing, waving goodbye to England, most planning to return – though a few were unaware that they would not.

October 12, 2015, present day  
Killian goes to take another sip from his flask, but stops himself halfway and lowers it back down to the table, trying his hardest to stop his lip from quivering. “After three days, a few of the men got extremely sick. We’re still not sure with what, or at least they never told me, though it was fairly strange for them to be killed like that in today’s society. We had one Navy doctor on board, his name was Archie. While they did have a good supply of medicine and treatments, because no one was really sure about what it was, it wasn’t enough. We were over halfway through our journey before they got really bad, so turning around wasn’t an option anymore. A few of the sick men made it all the way to America, but four of them passed before we made shore.” Now when he lifts the flask to his lips, he drains it. “Among those four was my brother. He was in his cabin, and the first mate came and got me from dinner per his request. I was down there for less than an hour, holding him and telling him it was going to be okay, that he was going to make it, before he took his last breath. With it, he gave me his ring, which was a little too sentimental, since his girlfriend gave it to him before she left a few years before that, but I took it.” He pulls the chain out from under his shirt, rubbing the plain silver ring between his fingers. “I wear it every day, and remember the last thing he ever said to me, “Put yourself at the helm, kid,” which is why I got this, which I know you haven’t seen yet.” He stands up and lifts the back of his t-shirt, revealing a large, intricate tattoo of a ship’s helm intertwined with a compass. “I stuck around with the crew until the embassy gave me my resignation packet, plus everything of Liam’s that was willed to me, which included the rest of the money that Captain Hook had given to us after Brennan supposedly passed away, which is what I used to buy the Chevelle. Then Her Majesty’s Navy set me up to go to school wherever I wanted for whatever I wanted, so I decided to come to the wealthiest shipbuilding area, which is right here.” In conclusion, he lowers himself back into the dining room chair, gesturing out with his hands. “I’ve been an engineering student here for two years, and then I met you. Everything else since then, you already know.”

**

Emma doesn’t know what to say; in fact, she is so far beyond words that she cannot even comprehend how to tell him that she doesn’t know what to say. So, instead of saying, she acts: pushing her chair out slowly, she brings herself around the small, round table to where she is right in front of him, then leans back to sit on the table. Ever-so-gently, she reaches out and takes his hands with hers, softly running her thumbs over his wide veins. After a moment, she finds herself able to respond.  
“I’m so sorry, Killian. No one should have to go through all of that, especially this soon in life. Liam sounds like a wonderful man, and every time you speak of him, I wish more and more that I would have had the pleasure to meet him.”  
Suddenly, Killian’s eyes flash to something behind hers, gaining a somewhat predatory hardness. Before Emma has the chance to turn around, Belle speaks.  
“There really are no words to describe just how good of a man Liam was, Emma. I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell you all of this, but I wanted to make sure that you really were the right Killian before I brought anything up.  
Killian’s mouth folds up into a half-smile. “So it is you, isn’t it, Belle? I thought I recognized you when I first met you, but I thought it was too good to be true, for it to really be you.” Emma is thoroughly surprised by his next question, both in context and the fact that it’s the first thing he wants to know. “Do you want your ring back?” He holds up the silver ring around his neck – Liam’s ring, which he said was given to him by his girlfriend.  
Belle must see the shock in Emma’s face, because she begins to clarify. “Yes, Emma, I was Liam’s girlfriend. We dated for a few years, back when I was a rebellious redhead.” She then turns to Killian, her eyes full of sadness. “And no, I don’t want it back, Killian. I gave it to Liam as a gift, and he gave it to you as a token. It means much more to you than I think I would ever get out of it. He was your brother, he was just my very good friend for a few years.”  
Killian stands up and rushes over to Belle, engulfing her in a hug. “He really liked you, you know. He would talk about you for hours, especially when we were on expeditions, even after you left.”  
“Why did you leave, Belle?” Emma asks, still trying to piece everything together in her head. “I don’t think you ever told me.”  
“Aye, I never knew either,” Killian interjects.  
“About the same reason you did, Killian. My father died, and his only wish was that I went to see the world. I looked at colleges all across America, because that’s specifically what he left me money for, and it just felt right here.” She turns back to Killian. “But I’m so sorry to hear about your brother. I was wondering why his letters just suddenly stopped coming.”  
Killian’s face turns to one of awe. “He was still writing you letters? But you left years before that, I thought…” He trails off, but Belle is just nodding.  
“No, he and I kept in touch. We planned to get back together after I was done college, once he was done with his tour and given a land assignment.”  
“Well, I’m sorry that you’ve been in the dark for so long. If I’d have known, I would have contacted you, so that you didn’t spend all these years wondering – “  
Belle reaches out and presses her hand against his shoulder. “Killian, it’s okay. I always figured the worst, as much as it hurt me to.”


End file.
